


Valen

by MadMacha



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Circle of Magi, Dalish Accent, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, Dalish Lore, Dread Wolf, F/M, Lyrium, Lyrium Addiction, Mages, Mages and Templars, Mages vs. Templars, Templars, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7659973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMacha/pseuds/MadMacha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fleeing the mage rebellion and angry Templars, the only Elven Templar in existence meets an unlikely friend and guardian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Valen

               Valen was fed up with the rebellion as soon as it started. Templars and mages killing each other was to be expected but this was ridiculous. The humans think the Dalish are savage but how is this any better? Valen held her shield firmly in her left hand, keeping it angled down as she’d be taught in her Templar training. She was down on one knee, staring down the two apostates that had attacked her on sight. She hadn’t been looking for a fight. Another ball of fire glanced off the shield and hit the ground in front of her with a hiss.

               Please, stand down,” she tried once more but they hadn’t listened to her the first four times she’d said it. “I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s just go our separate ways.” The woman standing behind the fire mage scoffed and began to charge her hands with electricity. Valen shook her head sadly and stood. She focused, channeling her power around her and into her sword. The magic snuffed out from both mages’ hands. They looked at each other in a panic but charged anyways with their staves. Valen’s sword slid across the first mage with ease and he hit the ground hard. The woman stumbled passed Valen in shock as the Templar’s sword shot back, landing between the mage’s shoulder blades and passing clean through.

Valen freed her sword and stood up straight, taking a deep breath before spinning around at the faintest sound of a twig snap. She sighed at the sight of the third mage, most likely waiting to ambush her. She wouldn’t give him the chance. Valen launched at him, noticing too late that he was an elf. He lifted his hand calmly and her ears rang with an explosion. She hit the ground, swallowed in darkness.

The elf had shot forward to finish the Templar off quickly but froze when her helmet rolled away, revealing her pointed ears. He stared curiously a moment before kneeling down and binding her hands together. She had attacked him without hesitation just as every other wild Templar on the loose but how could she be one of them? She had pleaded with the other two mages to stop. Perhaps she had killed a Templar and taken the armor. Although, he’d seen her use the Templar ability of nulling magic. Whatever her story, it had peaked his interest and he wanted answers

Valen woke slowly and painfully. She felt the warmth of a fire and heard the crackle before she opened her eyes. She shifted a little and noticed her bound hands. Valen shot up in a panic but grimaced in pain.

“What…” she breathed and saw the elf staring at her from the other side of the fire. “Why didn’t you kill me?” she asked in her thick Dalish accent. The mage tilted his head curiously.

“Seemed a waste,” he replied, his own accent sounding gentle and old.

“You weren’t with the other two mages?” He shook his head once. “Then I apologize for attacking you. Ever since I fled the circle, Templars and mages have been trying to kill me.”

“You’re Dalish?”

“Was…” she replied slowly.

“Yet you have no Vallaslin?”

Valen hesitated, thinking carefully how she should answer. “My clan… did not believe in the markings.” The elf tilted his head again but this time stood. He approached her, slowly drawing out a knife. Valen took in a sharp breath as he stooped over her and took her hands, cutting the rope. Her hands fell free but a sharp pain ripped through her shoulder and she flinched, letting out a small, painful noise. Blood trickled down her armor from between the shoulder joints.

“I apologize for the injury,” he said in a gentle tone and knelt beside her. “May I?” Valen nodded once. “What is your name?” he asked as he began unbuckling the leather straps holding her armor in place.

“Knight-Corporal Valen, though it’s just a pretty title, nothing more,” she said through another grimace.

The elf let out a small laugh… or scoff. She couldn’t tell. “I am called Solas,” he replied, carefully peeling the pauldron from her shoulder.


End file.
